Something That Can't Be Seen
by strawberryfinn
Summary: Soda is hurt and broken by the Socs, and the gang is starting to fall apart. Can they help save him before it's too late?


**Author's Note**: Well, here's finally another story by Strawberry Finn for the _Outsiders_. I tried, I really did try, to do a sequel to the whole _Heartbroken _thing, and I came up with some ideas, but they weren't good enough. So I decided that I'd just start over new. With some prompting from Curtisbrothersfan, I was able to start a new story. (Thanks, by the way). So this _isn't _a sequel to _Heartbroken_, but it's more physical and emotional pain for all of you. I don't own any of the characters in _The Outsiders_, but I _do _own this whole plotline. This story involves some intense Soda abuse, so if you don't like, don't read.

Chapter 1:

Two-Bit's POV+

I'm walking down the alleys now, headed for the bar where I'm going to meet up with Steve. You see, Mom's at work, and Emma, (my little sister), is out with some friends. I never do much around my house (or anything at all, Darry would add), so I decided I'd just chill with Steve, and then maybe meet up with Ponyboy to catch a movie or something.

That kid watches too many movies. They must be pretty bad for his eyes. I can't really blame him, though, and Darry doesn't say anything. Pony was hit pretty hard when Johnny died—and Dally, right after. I guess things don't always turn out the way we want—I mean, I was hurt too, but I guess Pony was hit harder. Pony's the youngest of us, so it's sort of reasonable, if you get what I'm saying. He's also the smartest though. I think that God accidentally made a mistake of making him a Greaser. I could see Pony as a successful Soc, but then I'd probably fall apart. We all love Ponyboy.

The only reason Pony sort of still hangs on and hasn't lost it completely is because of his brothers. I guess he's really lucky to have brothers like that. I mean, Emma's my sister and everything, but I don't think I've done such a great job at being a brother to her. I mean, I try, but I just don't have that overprotective nature of Darry or that understanding kindness of Sodapop.

It's mainly Soda that helps Pony. I mean, Darry tries but he's never been so great at helping Pony out. He tries to understand, but there's just some things he can't do—yet Soda can do all of them. Soda understands without listening, he listens without hearing. He gets drunk without drinking, he breaks without any blows. I don't know. Soda's this mystery that God put down on earth—he falls in love with life and then falls apart the next day. Mostly he's pretty stable though—kind and quiet and good-looking through all of it.

I'm thinking of Soda right now as I walk down this alley, the dirt sort of billowing out as I kick the ground. I'm thinking I should get a job so I can help out my mom, but who am I kidding? Two-Bit Matthews has never taken anything seriously before, so I don't need to get all hurried up and start now.

Anyway, I hear some sort of scuffle, and I look over. It's sort of the instinctive thing to do if you think about it hard enough, when you're a Greaser, you've got to sort of watch your back.

There's a bunch of Socs, and they're laughing and…

My stomach turns over. What _are _they doing? Oh my God, they're beating up somebody.

I can't tell who it is, but honestly, when I see a bunch of guys beating on one person, it makes me madder than anything. I search the ground for some sort of weapon, but all I can find is a busted pop bottle. I'm going to need something better. When you're outnumbered, it always helps to play it a little safe.

Then I remember the switchblade Steve got me. I think he stole it, but I didn't really want to find out for sure, so I didn't say anything. I just said, "Thank you," and took it. So I pull _that _out of my pocket, and I think I'm pretty well-armed enough now.

"Get off him!" I'm yelling, as I run towards all them Socs. I hate them sometimes. Wait, I take that back. I hate _all _of them. "Get off him or else I'm going to _kill _you all!" I've never killed anybody in my life. Sure, I've hurt a lot of people, but never killed them. I think though, if they all ganged up on me, I wouldn't have any problems killing them. The person they're beating on though, has no common sense whatsoever. He's not fighting back at all, and just letting them beat him up all bloody. I'm just hoping it's not Pony, because Pony doesn't have any common sense. But then I remember that Pony's changed, and he has no problems hurting people now.

All the Socs turn when they hear me yelling at them, and they drop the guy they're beating up. I expect them to turn and fight me because they've got their own weapons, but they just all run off. It figures. Socs can be rather stupid. I think they mainly leave because they don't want me to draw too much attention, I'm figuring. One of the Soc though, he takes his knife and chucks it straight at me. He misses by a bit—I guess he's never really had too much practice.

Anyway, they all scramble, pile up in their Mustang and drive off, leaving me with the moaning figure on the ground. I can see and smell the coppery blood from here, and I don't want to really head over there. I really can't stand blood—I guess that's news for you from Two-Bit Matthews. There's been too much blood spilled over these couple of years, and I've pretty much had enough of it.

That's why I purposely _avoid _fights, because I'm tired of people being hurt and breaking my nose so many times. The Two-Bit from a few years ago is a lot different from the Two-Bit now. I mean, the old Two-Bit would hop into the middle of fights, or purposely _start _them just to have a good rumble. But I've changed. We all have.

But I don't have a choice of not going to see if the kid's alright even if I don't like the smell of blood. That would be just sort of wrong, if you get what I'm saying.

So I head over there, and the kid is all lain out, bleeding and barely conscious. Blood is seeping out from under him, and the whole ground is all red. A knife lies on the ground, the tip of the blade all bloody and wet, and I'm feeling pretty nervous. As I said before, blood is _not _good.

But it's only when I get really close to him is when my heart starts pounding really fast in my chest and my stomach starts doing all these weird flip-flops. Why? I recognize the kid, and he's a really close friend of mine. Seeing him beat up like this isn't pretty. Who is it? It's our very own Sodapop Curtis.

**Author's Note**: Not bad, right? I thought the whole first-person point of view added some sort of twist. Well, there's going to be more point of views and stuff, so if you want to read more, please review. I'll try to update as quick as possible.

-Finn


End file.
